"Please don't talk that way. Your grandfather is quite right."
The boy smiled. "I suppose you really can't understand? It's part of your loveliness that you can't. If you could, you would know that I can't go away. I told him I was much obliged, but I couldn't leave Old Chester."
"Oh, please! you mustn't be foolish. I don't like you when you are foolish. Will you please remember how much older I am than you? Let's talk of something else. Let's talk about the little boy who is coming to visit me—his name is David."
"I would rather talk about you, and what you mean to me—beauty and poetry and good—"
"Don't!" she said sharply,
"Beauty and poetry and goodness."
"I'm not beautiful, and I'm not—poetical."
"And so I worship you," the young man went on in a low happy voice.
"Do please be quiet! I won't be worshipped."
"I don't see how you are going to help it," he said calmly. "Mrs. Richie, I've got my skiff; it came yesterday. Will you go out on the river with me some afternoon?"